


Station My Heart, Dork

by indecisive (darling_highness)



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: AU, Fluff, M/M, UKUS, USUK - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-07
Updated: 2015-06-07
Packaged: 2018-04-03 06:11:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4089991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darling_highness/pseuds/indecisive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alfred is in the military and is stationed on some dinky little island in the middle of the ocean. All hope seems lost until he meets a certain boy by the name of Arthur.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Station My Heart, Dork

This was it. Alfred had finally completed his basic and Advanced Individual training for the military, and he was finally going to be assigned his unit. He had dreams of being stationed somewhere big, full of wonder. He entered his superior's office, chin held high with pride. Alfred stood at attention and saluted. “Corporal,” he greeted.

“Private.” The man gave a curt nod and remained seated. “The time has finally come for your stationing, has it? Let's see...” The silver haired man peered over his glasses into a folder marked JONES on a tab, rifling through the papers. “Here we are. You're going to be stationed at our military base in Terceira.”

Alfred knit his eyebrows. “Terceira? Where is that?”

“Middle of the Atlantic, son. You better start learning Portuguese quick,” he wheezed out a raspy laugh, patting his heavy desk as if he had just heard the joke of the year. After he had calmed down enough to talk again, he said, “Don't look so heartbroken. The locals are nice and living's cheap there. You'll get acquainted real fast, boy. The island's only about 155 square miles in area.”

Alfred's mouth hung open, shock forcing him into silence. He simply nodded when he was dismissed. So much for that. He was thrown into a rut of absolute despair for the next few weeks while everything was put in order. Alfred was shipped out to the minuscule island three weeks after he was assigned. He was meant to find a house before he started real work at the army base.

Both flights he sulked. Alfred leaned his forehead against the window and didn't talk to anybody. Not once. Not during his layover. Not when he got to the base. Except for when he picked up his car and arrived at the hotel in which he would be staying. It was a new hotel, modern and beautiful. It overlooked the only beach on the island and the marina, as well as the old fort on Monte Brasil. Alfred was somewhat at ease when he came to this place. At least it had some semblance of modernity. The rest of the island was blanketed in farms and old stone houses and cobbled streets from the 14th century. He was relieved to see the beacon of civilization amongst the old town of Angra. Angra was the biggest town on the island and that was saying something, because it felt so _small_ to him. The first few days he spent being a petulant child, remaining inside his room to browse on the computer and ignore everything else. On day three, he went out for some fresh air and a look around. He left his car at the hotel and walked into the town. His blond hair and stature made him stick out amongst the locals, but none stared for too long. They were used to seeing Americans on the island what with how long the base had been there. Some even smiled and greeted him in Portuguese, and he replied with an awkward hello. Alfred happened upon a square where people had gathered under red and white umbrellas at iron tables and chairs painted green to enjoy cigarettes and coffee. Everyone seemed to smoke here, he noted. In the center of the cluster of tables stood a hut with logos for ice cream and menus with assortments of coffee hanging inside. One girl stood inside the kiosk, filling orders while two others flitted between tables to clear them. More Than A Feeling was playing from speakers around the roof of the building. Alfred looked longingly at the delicious looking drinks, cursing his lack of motivation to learn the language. He scanned the people at the tables to see if any of them looked like they might be able to help him. His eyes fell upon another blond man, reclining back in his chair and reading a newspaper. He sat alone, his thick eyebrows knit with attention. He had a cute face, if Alfred did say so. Square jawline, an even complexion, and dazzling green eyes. Alfred strolled over to him, displaying his most charming smile. “Hey there! I'm Alfred. Listen, I'm new around here... And I was wondering if you would mind telling me what's good here?” He gestured to the kiosk.

He inquired. The other man stared at him, brow raised. He looked utterly put out by the sudden interruption. With a thick accent of some sort, he replied, “I eh... I do not talk eh English...” and promptly returned to browsing his paper.

“Your newspaper is written in English,” Alfred retorted flatly. The tips of the blond's ears turned red and for a moment he refused to look away from the paper in his hands.

With a reluctant sigh, he laid it down beside his coffee, turning his piercing gaze on Alfred. He stared at Alfred for a minute, eyes scanning his face and build as if he were searching for something. “Military, by the looks of it,” he muttered under his breath. “I'm Arthur, and the cappuccinos are good.” His accent was thick. English without a doubt. Arthur sighed again. “Are we done here? Okay. Enjoy your stay,” he prompted curtly. Arthur returned his gaze to his newspaper, picking up the cup to his right.

“Oh. Thanks,” his smile staled. With a great deal of effort and broken English, Alfred managed to order himself a cappuccino. He leaned against the wooden counter while the girl prepared his drink, gazing into the park across the way. His mind drifted to other things until he was startled by the young girl handing him his drink. Alfred was feeling rather plucky, so he returned to the table Arthur was at and sat down across from him.

Arthur glared from under his eyebrows, the hand holding his chin up curling into a fist. “May I help you?” Even if he could, he wouldn't. He wanted to be left alone, and he was sure he made that clear before.

“Yeah. You can go ahead and tell me about yourself. What's someone like you doing out on this little island? You don't look like a local or military personnel.” Alfred pushed his glasses up and sipped his drink, waiting patiently for a reply. “You sound British. Are you here on vacation? If you are, why here of all places? I mean, really.”

Arthur narrowed his eyes. “Yes and no,” he muttered. “I'm British but I'm not taking a holiday, exactly. I live here for however long I feel like every year. My grandparents came here when the air force base was set up in the second World War, and my parents were born and raised between here and England. I was too... Wait! Why do you even care? You've just met me and you want my whole life story. I haven't even consented to this conversation and here I am having it!” He scowled and folded his newspaper in half with vicious force, folding his arms over his chest. By the way he was staring at Alfred, one would have thought he was trying to burn a hole through his forehead.

Alfred was more than pleased. He enjoyed extracting reactions from people. It amused him. He smiled jovially and tilted his head, laughing low in his chest. “So your backstory is as interesting as your face. I can go for that. You were right about me being in the military. Private Alfred Jones at your service,” he chuckled. “I just moved here from the states. Been here for 3 days now, but this is my first time out and about. I'm from the Midwest so I never learned a second language, so I'm kind of screwed being here... Not as interesting as you, I know, but I'm still pretty out there. I was a sports star in high school. American football was my thing. That, and writing. I know you guys call soccer football, so... Anyways, I had it pretty good back home.”

“Why did you throw your life away for the military then? That seems like a waste.” Arthur seemed a little more relaxed now, his frown gone aside from the crease above his left eyebrow.

“My dad wanted me to serve. He was a war vet and his dad was too. It's tradition, I guess. Serving our grand old country. Plus, it's probably the only way I would ever get out of that town. But now I'm stuck here.” Alfred looked down into his cup, dragging his nail along the porcelain finish in an absent way.

Arthur tilted his head, eyebrows raised. He didn't expect to be having such an emotional talk when he went out for a coffee. “It's not that bad here. If it was do you think I would keep coming back? You'll learn to love it.”

Alfred lifted his eyes to look at Arthur. “Thanks,” he mumbled, shifting around in his big leather jacket.

“Hey, chin up.” Arthur placed his glass on the table and picked up his newspaper and satchel. He slung the bag over his shoulder, adjusting his cardigan under it. “You're clearly not doing anything tomorrow, and neither am I, so let's meet back here. We can have coffee again. I feel bad for you, so it's the least I can do. If I wasn't so empathetic, I would never in a million years spare your sorry arse a second glance.” He threw the other a wry grin and looked at his watch. “Meet me at half past three, okay? See you later.” Arthur waved before tramping away from the square, hustling down some narrow street.

Alfred stared after him, a dazed look painting his face. “What just happened?” he breathed.


End file.
